


Protect me from Love

by emsmittens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Beta Peter Hale, Boys In Love, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Good Peter Hale, Happy Ending, M/M, Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Men Crying, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pack Politics, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsmittens/pseuds/emsmittens
Summary: The Hale Pack wanted to avoid a war with another werewolf pack. However, they wanted any single pack members to be mated into their pack. Stiles and Peter thought that all hope was lost, until Erica had the great idea of them pretending to date.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 543





	Protect me from Love

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story with a completely different idea in mind. However, the plot (and Peter) had a mind of their own. I'm still not sure if I like where it took me. I hope you enjoy anyways :)

Once again, Peter found himself paired up with Stiles for the weekly patrol that his alpha nephew, Derek, mandated the pack to do. Stiles was always paired with him and while Peter didn’t mind strolling along with him, the pack’s only human sure had a problem with it. He complained the entire time they walked or drove through the woods together. No wonder they never found any supernatural threats, Stiles was probably boring them away from Beacon Hills as he loudly complained the entire three hours.

Tonight, however, Stiles’ complaining was particularly bad. It was in the middle of the spring semester for the senior and that meant tests, papers, and a mountain of homework. While it was nice to see that Beacon Hills High hasn’t changed since he left, the downside was that the human hasn’t shut up about it since they met up at the entrance to the preserve. 

Peter was growing more and more annoyed and his high tolerance of fuckery was about to break. Stiles was currently walking slowly over the overgrown running trail in front of the werewolf, still complaining. Peter tried to zone him out to think of ways to shut the other man up. He couldn’t maim or injure Stiles, knowing that Derek and Scott would fight him over it. Plus, Peter’s strongest pack bond was with Stiles, so that would soon disappear and he couldn’t have that. Maybe he could disappear and leave the teenager alone in the forest? No, too mean, Peter thought.

In front of him, Stiles tripped and almost plummeted into the hard, muddy ground if Peter hadn’t quickly caught him. Stiles shoved him off and steadied himself. “I don’t need your help, Creeper-Wolf,” he said, nervously licking his lips. 

Looking down to Stiles’ lips, Peter realized he had never noticed them before, and that they were soft and red. He wanted to kiss them and feel them against his skin. And that’s one way to shut Stiles up, he thought, trying not to grin at the image.

“Earth to Creeper-Wolf,” Stiles sang in a childish voice while waving a hand in front of Peter’s face.

Quick to plan, Peter grabbed the younger man by the waist and pulled him to where they were flush against each other. Before Stiles could react, Peter leaned forward and kissed him. Stiles was still for half a heartbeat before he started kissing Peter back. That’s a surprise, Peter thought before lazily licking Stiles’ plump bottom lip before stepping back and letting him go.

Stiles just stood there, mouth opened like a fish, and for once, had nothing to say. Chuckling, Peter continued on the trail as if nothing ever happened. Stiles didn’t utter a word for the rest of their three hours together.

***

During the next pack meeting, Peter found himself distracted. This isn’t anything new, as he typically was alone in his own thoughts as he let the pups bicker among themselves. But, this time, he was distracted by Stiles. Who let him wear such a white see-through and tight shirt? Hell, Peter could count all of the moles on the human’s back from his position behind him on the stairwell. He could follow the dots and make his own constellations. He could see the small, sharp lines of shoulder muscles that Stiles has required through years of playing lacrosse. 

Peter licked his dry, cracked lips, remembering how Stiles’ lips tasted. He was deep into his own mental fantasy involving the pack’s only human, not caring that the werewolves in the room could smell his state. They could view it as payback for their own horny teenage selves. He vaguely heard Derek talking about the news of various packs around California and Peter tuned him out again. Those packs were always doing the same damn things. 

“And they want one of us to marry into their pack.”

Those few words, along with cries of outrage from the pups broke Peter’s fantasy. Without hearing the rest of Derek’s rambling, he knew that his nephew must have been talking about the Elmier Pack. They were a small, power-hungry pack to the west of them and always claimed that they were in Beacon Hills before the Hales. At their prime, the Hales were able to fend off their attacks for more land. Now, however, would be different. It seems like they were taking a civil approach this time around. As the old treaty of ‘wolves declared, the one route with the least bloodshed was a marriage between the two packs with territory disputes.

Derek cut through the chatter with a growl and a flash of his blood-red alpha eyes. “They wish to meet the pack members that are single, besides the alpha.”

“What? You get out of it just because you’re the alpha?” Stiles said, crossing his arms and leaning backwards on his stool. “Well, that’s not fair.”

Peter couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. The new Hale pack emissary had a lot to learn. But at least he was better than that asshole Deaton. He spoke up before Derek could defend himself. “Now, Stiles. Surely you know that an alpha can’t marry into another pack.”

It was Scott that piped up this time, ignoring the comments and pointing out the obvious. “Well, besides Derek, the only two single members of the pack are Stiles and Peter.” He glanced at Kira, looking for confirmation, foolishly smiling when she nodded. 

Peter grinned and left his stairwell to loom over Stiles. “Are we?” He asked, once he was standing over Stiles, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well,” he drawled out while placing his hands on the same firm shoulders he was staring at earlier, “There’s only one way to fix that.”

Stiles stiffened in his touch, but didn’t pull away, far too used to Peter’s weird fear tactics he uses on the rest of the Hale Pack. He scoffed as he craned his neck back to glare at the older man, “I would rather mate a stranger than date you, Creeper-Wolf.”

“Complain all you want but that could be our solution,” Erica said from the couch where she was leaning against Boyd, who was stoic as ever. She glanced at Derek, “What do you think, Alpha?”

“Yeah, I could just write them back and say that no one in the Hale Pack is eligible for a mate.”

Giggling loudly, Lydia said “They still send like, letters?” Allison gently slapped her shoulder with a soft smile and told her to be nice.

Gross, Peter thought. This pack is filled with love-struck idiots. McCall was right, everyone was coupled up except for Derek, Stiles, and himself. Well, we all know why Derek isn’t getting any. But it's curious why Stiles still found himself single. He heard Derek talking again but tuned him out, yet again, to stare at the teenager under him, who has thankfully turned his attention to the pack’s Alpha. 

Despite Peter still having his grip on Stiles’ shoulder, he was now relaxed to the touch. Even though there was tension on the right shoulder. It’s the teen’s dominant arm after all. Peter didn’t dwell on the fact that he watches Stiles so much that he knows that and instead slowly started massaging the bundle of tension. Stiles sighed and leaned into his touch, seeming to trust Peter for once.

***

Peter leaned against a tree as he surveyed the Stilinski house, thinking to himself. If they were going to tell the Elmier Pack that no one was available, they were bound to come to Beacon Hills to investigate. Once they saw that the Hale Pack lied to them, they were sure to start an all-out war. His nephew was too stupid to realize this, so Peter took it in his own hands to solve this problem.

The lights in the house he was watching were now all dark, signalling that the Sheriff finally went to bed. Peter lazily used his claws to scale up to the second floor, next to Stiles’ bedroom window. Glancing in, he saw that the teenager was still awake, propped up on some pillows on his bed, biting his lip as he read from a high school textbook. Deciding to be polite for once, Peter knocked softly on the glass, alerting Stiles of his presence.

Stiles lightly jumped, then glared at the window, as if Peter disturbed him doing something that was actually productive. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Peter had enough of being polite and opened the window and jumped in without Stiles’ permission.

“What are you doing here, Zombie-Wolf?” Stiles asked while bookmarking his place and throwing the textbook next to him.

Peter ignored Stiles’ hostile tone and slumped onto the empty desk chair across the room. “We have to be a convincing couple,” he said, explaining himself. “That includes smelling like each other and spending time together, among other things.” Stiles eyes became wider and wider with everyone of Peter’s words, reminding the werewolf of a deer caught in the headlights of his sports car.

Finally managing to stumble out a response, Stiles said, “Do you really think that is necessary?”

“I do.”

***

An alarm shrieked next to Peter’s ears and the werewolf found himself awake and grumpy. Still keeping his eyes closed to the morning light, he wondered when was the last time he ever set an alarm to wake up. The weight that was against his chest started moving and the shrill sound turned off. Since when has he had a bed partner? He opened his eyes, right into Stiles’ whisky brown ones, still hooded from sleep. Oh right, he thought. The Elmier Pack Fucking Over Plan, as Stiles so cleverly named it last night 

“Sorry about the alarm,” Stiles mumbled as he scooted closer and burrowed his head in the crook of Peter’s neck. 

Peter sighed at the closeness and tightened his grip on Stiles, pushing them closer together. It was weird that the human didn’t seem to mind their closeness, Peter thought. It’s been a long time since he’s had such a strong pack bonding moment, so he didn’t mention his thoughts.

They stayed like that until Stiles’ phone loudly interrupted them with the second alarm of the morning. Stiles turned it off yet again and tossed it on his bedside table. “Fuck high school,” he muttered as he left the warm bed and began hurriedly changing and packing his backpack. 

Peter moved to where he was leaning back against the headboard as he watched Stiles zoom around his room. Judging by his quickness, it was later in the morning than Peter usually slept until. I might be losing my touch, Peter thought as he chuckled when Stiles tripped on a pile of discarded clothes. 

“Well, um.” Stiles said, appearing to be lost for words as he put on his backpack and opened his bedroom door. “I’ll see you later,” he eventually said before running down the stairs and out of the house.

Peter looked around the now empty room that smelled like a typical teenager’s awkwardness. Might as well snoop around, he thought with a stretch and a grin. He even grabbed one of Stiles’ many blankets when he left for his apartment. For scent mixing purposes, of course.

***

As Peter expected, within a few days of Derek mailing his response to the Elmier Pack, he started smelling unknown werewolves, mainly around the highschool. He has yet to pinpoint the members of the Elmier Pack, but he was glad he started picking up Stiles when classes were over for the day, no matter how much Stiles complained.

Speaking of the devil, Peter saw him almost fall down the school steps after saying goodbye to the other pack members and making his way over to where Peter was leaning against his latest sports car purchase. He took off his sunglasses and grinned at the human in greeting, knowing he was showing too many teeth to be considered friendly.

“Save it, wolf-y. I’ve had a bad day,” said Stiles, now next to Peter as he shoved his heavy book bag to the other man before slipping into the already open passenger door. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter put the bag in the back of his car before casually slipping into the driver’s side and taking off towards the Stilinski’s household. “Tell me, darling. What’s on your mind?”

Stiles scoffed at the recently acquired nickname as he adjusted the AC. “You. Well, specifically you picking me up from high school. The pack knows this is a coverup, of course, but the rest of the students don’t.”

“So?” Peter asked, putting his hand, now free from shifting gears, on Stiles’ lower thigh, scent-marking him and hoping it calmed him down. 

“So,” Stiles continued, while placing his own hand over Peter’s in a familiar gesture, “They keep calling me jail-bait.” The human reeked of embarrassment and dejection.

Peter used his thumb to calmly rub Stiles’ own. Teenagers are the worst, he thought to himself, before saying “You’re eighteen. It’s perfectly legal. Plus your father is the sheriff. If anyone would have a problem with it, it would be him.” Peter paused, looking over his shoulder to change lanes. “Well, he knows about our rouse, but the humans at your school don’t know that.” 

Seemingly done with this conversation, Stiles flipped his hand to actually hold Peter’s tightly, as if he was afraid the werewolf would let go and looked out the passenger window. 

Used to the silent treatment, Peter hummed along to the soft music coming from the car’s speakers. They were coming up on Stiles’ house and Peter noticed that Noah wasn’t there, only Stiles’ beloved beat-up Jeep was in the driveway. Sensing that Stiles didn’t want to be left alone, Peter kept driving with no destination in mind. Stiles didn’t stop him. 

An hour later, Peter found himself at his apartment with Stiles’ legs over his as they ate Chinese take-out and bickered about which Star Wars movie is the best. Stiles was loud and ate like a dog, slinging noodles everywhere, but Peter didn’t find himself minding.

***

Ever since they started smelling other werewolves in Beacon Hills, the Hale Pack has been on high alert. From the different smells, it appeared to only be two scouts, probably courtesy of the Elmier Pack. Peter saw this happening of course, so while Derek was explaining the dynamics to the teenagers of the pack at their next weekly pack meeting, Peter didn’t pay attention. Instead, he outwardly held his gaze at his currently fake-mate, who was laying next to him, head in Peter’s lap.

Peter found himself unknowingly playing with Stiles’ long front bangs, currently devoid of the sticky hair gel Stiles normally uses. Over the past week, they have grown closer, thanks to ‘The Elmier Pack Fucking Over Plan.’ Peter wonders if they would have eventually become this close naturally as his eyes danced around the human’s face, taking in the beauty marks he’s come to love. Wait, love? Peter shook himself of this thought and snapped his head up to actually listen to his nephew, trying desperately to forget such thoughts.

Derek ended the meeting with a clap of his hands and saying, “Stiles and I will text out the rounds and pairings for this week’s increased patrols. Remember, don’t attack the Elmier Pack scouts.” Instantly, the feeling in the room changed as Erica and Allison raced to get the television set up for the pack bonding movie while Lydia called the local pizza place, placing a massive order sure to feed a pack of teen ‘wolves. 

Stiles got up off of Peter’s lap and made his way to the kitchen, presumably to get a drink. Peter missed the warmth and hoped that the human would cuddle him during the movie as well. Only one way to ensure that, Peter thought, as he got up to follow Stiles into the kitchen. When he got there, he found Stiles bent over and rummaging through the fridge. Peter took the time to admire Stiles’ ass while he could.

Finally deciding on which soda he wanted, Stiles shut the fridge door and turned around, only to run into Peter’s firm frame. He cocked an eyebrow and the human and smirked. “Going somewhere, darling?”

He opened his mouth to probably give Peter a sarcastic response and call him a Creeper-Wolf. Instead, Peter placed his hands on Stiles’ chest pushed him against the fridge and sloppily kissed him. Stiles didn’t waste a moment and roughly responded, almost as a challenge. Chuckling at Scott cursing him from the living room, Peter moved to Stiles’ neck to bruise the skin to his liking.

“P-Peter. The movie,” Stiles weakly stammered out while tightly holding on to the werewolf.

The human smelled of desire and it was hard for Peter to let him go and step back. Trying to appear unfazed, he grinned, “Sorry. Gotta keep up the plan, right?”

When Stiles nodded in confirmation, Peter man-handled him back into the living room. The rest of the pack looked at them as if they’ve grown two heads as Peter sat down and pulled the still disheveled Stiles into his lap.

***

On Monday, after picking up Stiles from the high school, Peter drove the pair right to the Beacon Hills Preserve, in order to complete their patrol. Stiles was silent the entire ride, focusing his attention to his assigned reading for his English class.

Once they were on their assigned hiking trail, they both still remained in their own comfortable silence. They stayed that way until, off in the distance, Peter heard two figures crashing through the forest, unsure of the trail. Suddenly the wind shifted, giving Peter the scent of unknown werewolves. The Elmier Pack. Without thinking he pulled an arm out in front of Stiles. The human turned and noticed the shift in Peter’s expression. He raised an eyebrow, in silent question. 

Peter nodded and pointed to the nearby, thick tree. Stiles pushed his back against it and pulled the werewolf with him, straight into his soft lips. Forgetting about the danger next to them, Peter deepened the kiss while he held to Stiles’ hips, strong enough to leave matching bruises.

They broke apart when someone cleared their throat behind them. “Well, well, well. It looks like the Hale Pack emissary is fucking the alpha’s uncle.” 

“Or is it the other way around?” The other voice added.

Unfazed, Peter whirled around to face the two betas of the Elmier Pack, both red-headed females. And twins, he realized, looking between them. He vaguely remembers them from the time that his sister was Alpha. Peter flashed his own bright blue eyes and said, “You’re on Hale land.”

“We just came here to see if your beloved Alpha was telling the truth. It was easy to match all of the mates at the high school, but Stiles appeared to be mate-less.”

“So we had to stay to find out.”

Stiles looked between the two women, obviously becoming annoyed. “Well, you found out. Do you mind leaving now?” He moved closer to Peter and put a possessive hand on his chest. “We were just getting to the good part.”

The she-wolves appeared to be satisfied with what they saw before them. Shifting into their beta forms, they both ran off towards the main road out of the preserve. Once Peter knew they were out of earshot, he turned to Stiles with a trademark shit-eating grin on his face.

***

Peter sighed as he closed the door to his apartment after dropping Stiles off at his house and calling his nephew to relay the good news. He slipped off his shoes and collapsed on his couch. He pulled the blanket that he stole from Stiles over him, knowing it still smelled like him. 

“Dumbass,” he said to himself. He should have known that this fake relationship with Stiles would cause him nothing but pain. Cuddling the blanket closer to his face, he breathed in Stiles’ perfect scent. Freshly cut timber; old books; his spark, like a match to gas. He felt pitiful, pining after a teenager. If his sister could see him now, she would laugh in his face before patting his head and saying something along the lines of ‘all men are assholes.’

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through the apps. About to call the local Polish diner for takeout, his doorbell rang. Must be Derek, Peter thought. Not thinking, he wrapped the blanket around him and walked to the door and opened it.

Stiles lifted up two bags of delicious smelling food. From the scent alone Peter knew it was Polish takeout, from the very same place he was about to call. The human looked him up and down and said, “Is that my blanket?”

Choosing to ignore the question, Peter opened the door wider to let the other man in under his arm. Once he was clear of the door, Peter closed it gently, wondering why Stiles decided to show up. After all, they didn’t need to pretend anymore.

His mate (not your mate, Peter thought to himself) began unbagging and placing the food on Peter’s dishware, well versed in the werewolf’s kitchen. Peter watched him from the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, trying not to appear pleased. His skin felt itchy as his wolf struggled to greet his fake-mate with touches and kind words.

The blanket around him started to smell less fresh, with the surrounding air smelling completely of Stiles. Peter shuffled forward and placed his head on the human’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

“Peter, I’m trying to prepare dinner,” Stiles said, while giggling slightly at the stubble that was tickling his cheek.

His wolf started to take over as he flashed his blue eyes and whipped around Stiles to face him. The emissary looked at him with shock. Peter nuzzled his face into the neck displayed for him. Peter felt himself slipping from his own mind as canines started to grow, straddling the pale flesh before him.

Stiles pulse quickened, realizing the werewolf’s near feral state. “Hey, darling.” He said, using Peter’s nickname for the human. “I’m here. It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around Peter’s torso and rubbed the man’s back in soothing circles.

Peter kept taking deep breaths of the human’s scent. Realization came to him like a brick wall. Stiles was his anchor. Stiles was his mate. “I love you,” he managed to admit, stumbling over the fangs of his beta-shift.

“I love you too, Zombie-Wolf,” Stiles responded immediately, still stroking Peter’s back in understanding.

With those words, Peter found his wolf backing down and his body returned back to his normal human state. Blinking, he listened into Stiles’ heart, which was beating at its normal fast past, but it didn’t seem like he was lying. He still refused to believe it. “Please don’t lie to me,” he said, tears forming in his eyes, threatening to fall down Stiles’ neck.

Stiles took his head and moved it to where they were facing eye-to-eye. Strangely confident, Stiles said “I haven’t been faking this bond. And I know you haven’t been either. I can feel it, Peter.” He moved Peter’s now human hands to his chest, “I’m not lying.” 

He wasn’t lying. Peter knew he wasn’t. He could hear and smell it on him. Every ounce of his being screamed otherwise as he shook in Stiles’ embrace. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally let go on his cheeks and made their way down to Stiles’ red hoodie. He finally found his voice and croaked out, “You can’t love me.”

“I love you. Every single bit of you. All of the nasty and gruesome parts. All of the happy and joyful parts. All of them, Peter. No matter how much of an asshole you are.”

Peter breathed in Stiles’ scent once again as his tears dried up. They love each other. Mates. Mates, his wolf chanted. And Peter finally listened to it, relaxing into Stiles’ arms, totally and completely in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on my Teen Wolf shipping [Tumblr](https://stilesshipper.tumblr.com/)


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